Demons
by xxmisfit121
Summary: AU Every Tailed Beast is given a human to work with after their last one has died. This human is not a host, but a sort of ally. Unfortunately, the two very rarely enjoy each-other's company and the human's life is destroyed though they are still living.
1. Massacre

**A/N: AUGH!! I can't seem to get through a single story without finding another idea as soon as I've started it! D= Oh well... I guess I'll just put up the first chapter of all the stories I have in mind as a BETA and I will put up a poll later on to vote for which one I should continue with. xD Anywho...**

**_ALSO! THE SHUKAKU IN THIS STORY IS IN MY RENDITION WHICH MEANS HE'S NOT AS MUCH OF A FATASS DESPITE THAT FACT THAT DESTROYS HOW MOST PEOPLE LOOK AT TANUKIS BUT THAT IS OKAY!!_**

**Oh, and for once, I'm writing a serious story thats written in third person. First person didn't really fit this story because it's not centered around one single person. It will also allow me to be more descriptive with things. I hope...**

**OH!! And I believe this is my first time actually titling chapters. lol**

**Naruto ish nut mihne! **

* * *

A dull, idle wind blew a thin wave of sand across the ground of the village. If you could call it that. It was a mere, single street. There was no leader, no permanent residents that did not own a store. A rest stop. A lazy little group of buildings that lay almost unknown in the Wind Country. Just a place to get some water while you walked through the heat of the infamous and ruthless desert. The hot, dusty, dry air was stifling. The sand that surrounded these buildings had been packed into stone from all the feet that had tread over it.

This place had no rules, nothing to hold you back. You could come and go as you pleased. You could _exist_ as you pleased. There was no judging other than by those that worked at the shops and the small motel that were always there. It was a dull and tired place where people came and stayed only for a short time. Most people rarely came back. The best part was, if you did something wrong, no one could do a thing about it. And even if they could, no one cared about this tired, old, place. No one important anyway.

If this place were to say... disappear, who would care? The only ones who would even notice it was gone would go down with it. No one would care. No one ever cares.

_"Do what you want, kit. Just try and make it... Interesting. And wait for my 'signal',"_

He obeyed.

A sadistic smirk melted into the face of a hooded figure that stood at the end of the 'village', his eyes hidden by a worn black cloak that draped over only one shoulder. A brown leather sash was hung on the other shoulder, holding a large gourd to his back. He also wore a small leather messenger's bag across the other shoulder, the strap partially hidden by the cloak. The heat of the dessert sun pushed itself against his back, pouring into his black clothing. But he was used to it.

Being alone was something he was just as used to. He told himself over and over again, boring this fact into his skull, that he would never have a true companion. He needed to realize this in order to accept it. He had done well. He didn't even care anymore. He had someone to talk to so that he could keep a decent grip on his sanity. Everything was fine. That's what he told himself. Everything will be okay. It was the only lie he would not admit was untrue.

He lifted one hand, pulling his fingers in a practiced motion. The sand that the wind had been slowly stirring on the scorching ground came to a sudden stop. The tiny particles were frozen in the air, suspended and in control of their master. He waited. It should be soon.

Everything was silent. It seemed even the small wind had paused to allow him to listen. He closed his eyes. He held his breath, afraid the dull sound of air moving across his teeth would affect his hearing. Listen. Just listen. Just feel. Just exist.

He felt the rush of energy and adrenaline flow through his companion. It was coming. He slid his feet across the ground away from each other until he was positioned in a fighting stance. His muscles tightened and he readied himself. He had to do something. Anything. Everything.

The muscles of his companion loosened in false relaxation. No one was aloud to see it coming. A lustful emotion building inside the other person. Immense excitement for pleasure he knew he would receive. These emotions flowed into him as well.

The smirk plastered on his face grew wider. When would it come? When would he get to let it go? He let their emotions run together. Adrenaline. Excitement. Anticipation. Bloodlust. Visions of what was about to become of this village flashing through the two's minds.

He forced his muscles to become like stone. He couldn't move now. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. He gritted his teeth. Soon. But not yet. Almost. But not now.

_"Just do it already!"_

The two enjoyed torturing each other, but this was just ridiculous. Neither of them could take this. Yet, they both had to wait. And wait. The tension was unbearable. It would be soon. It had to be.

But not yet. Not yet. Not yet. Not-

A loud sudden smash echoed from the bar on his right followed by multiple screams. A harsh, strong wind blew out the door. The mangled wood smashed and broke on the building parallel to it's entrance.

In under a half a second afterward, the sand began to whip around, slashing and cutting every living being in the area. Blood poured from everywhere. Screams could be heard from every direction. But no one could be seen, the whirling sand eating away anyone's eyes who dared open them. A man soon ran from the bar, somehow untouched by the rushing grains, his long, bleach-blonde hair pulled back in a tight pony-tail flowing behind him.

He jumped to the roof of the small store across the street. Wind lashed at amazing speeds, sheering the lives from everyone it touched. The hooded figure jumped to the roof of the bar.

He razed his arms and the sand contorted into two hands that grabbed and crushed in waves any victim they could find. The blonde did the same. An enormous surge of sand flowed in from every direction. It flooded the small village, burying and suffocating anyone in it's path. He closed his hands into fists.

The sand twisted and curved around itself to create a large funnel in the center. The sound of bones being crushed could be heard. He pulled his hands apart and all the sand went back to the desert, the sent of blood stained every grain. Now, all that was left was the bloody, mangled, and unrecognizable bodies of their victims. A satisfied smirk spread itself across the blonde's face. His long hair and baggy white pants still whipping around from the wind.

They had successfully murdered 20 people in under 5 seconds.

Both jumped down from the buildings and into the sea of dead carcasses. The blonde one was much taller than the young boy in the black cloak. He looked as though he was approximately 20 years old, with skin tanned dark from the desert sun with blue tattoo-like swirls covering the out-facing parts of his limbs and all down his back and a bit on the face. Two medium-sized gourds were strapped to either side of his hips, his shirt was off-white and sleeveless. His eyes were black where they should be white, and the iris was gold like the sun-baked sand of the desert.

He weaved his way around the pile of bodies, kicking over any ones that were in the way of another or just irritated him. The area soon smelt of blood and death. This pleased him, made him happy to be alive.

He focused his chakra into his eyes, nose and tongue in order to amplify his senses. He could taste every scent in the air and could tell which blood would be the worst, which was diseased, and which would taste the sweetest. The inhuman smile still plastered on his face, he began searching for what he craved the most. Not taking his eyes off the beautiful sight before him, he called out to his companion.

"Search for any survivors. I want everyone here dead,"

The boy responded with a simple "Keh..." and walked into a small tea shop to search for anyone who may still be alive. He pulled the hood down and shook any sand loose from his blood colored hair. He ran a hand through the messy red strands. Sand particles scattered the floor. He continued finger-combing his spiky mane as he walked through the small room, the soft _click... click... click..._ of his slow stride echoing off the walls.

The room was eerily quiet. The emptiness of sound seemed to be the loudest thing he'd ever heard. Someone was here.

He crossed his arms over his chest. He made his way to the counter in the back where customers would order their tea, menu boards behind it and bar stools in front.

He stopped at the counter and stood, looking up at the menu board in an almost sarcastic fashion. He stood for a good five minutes doing nothing but waiting. Waiting for a mistake, for the fault of whatever being was in here with him. Waiting for something to fall and clatter or for them to cough or sneeze. Trying to make them seem safe, make them think they were clever for at least a short amount of time. He could sense their heart beat close by, speeding up with the sense that he was here and could kill them. No. That he _would _kill them.

One mistake and they would be dead. One attempt to escape and they would be dead. One moment of carelessness, too long of a time being careful and he would kill them. He took one step toward where he knew they were. Their heart pounded hard in their chest, the blood flowing through their veins faster, that was the best time to kill. That's when it's most exciting.

Another step.

He or she was on the floor and moved back slightly.

Another step.

Another movement backward.

Another step.

Backward. Into the shelf.

"Mistake," a venomous whisper dripped off his lips as the plate clattered to the floor. Within seconds, a wave of sand had snaked out of the gourd on his back and crushed the girl, ruthlessly.

He walked briskly out of the shop. Although that was fun, he couldn't do that again. It would take too long and he didn't have time to waste. It was okay when there was only one person in the building, but not he would have to go onto the motel. That would take too long to clear if he did it slow like that.

He stepped back out into the street where his companion was face down on the pile of bodies, drinking the blood of one of his victims. He walked passed without even a glance. It didn't bother him. He'd seen him do this countless times before. He had once convinced the red-head to try it himself. He had. It was an awful taste, like a cup of salt water that had had a metal pipe sitting in it for a week. Yet, it felt almost good. However, his companion was in love with the taste.

He stepped into the motel, the small lobby empty of people. He stood and listened. Someone's heart was still beating, for the moment anyway. Sadly for this man, his life ended the moment sand gushed from the boy's gourd and crushed his skull. The boy kept walking, not even looking as the sand swept over his victim, stealing his life.

The motel had only two floors, one of which was the lobby. The red head walked up the short flight of stairs lazily. He reached the top and stepped out into an empty hallway. He could feel terrified hearts beating behind every door. These people knew about the slaughter that occurred just outside this building and none of them knew what to do. _Tch... Morons..._

He simply rose his hands and let sand flow out of his gourd and under the door of each room. Within moments, screams could be heard throughout the tiny building, the sounds of bones breaking among them. He smirked.

These noises were comforting to him. They told him that he was alive. They told him he existed. For, if you can kill another, you are alive. They also told him that his companion would be happy with him and would not attempt to hurt him tonight. He would be happy with all of the blood that now stained this village. Everyone was dead now. Everyone accept for one person.

He ambled down the hallway to the very last room on the left, the wood of the old floor creaking under his feet. He had killed two people in that room, on was still alive. This last one he wanted to murder in person. This last one he planned to kill painfully. This last one would be fun.

He stood in front of the dark green door. A tiny wave of sand floated through the air at his command and snaked into the card-key slot. He concentrated for a moment, until the lock clicked and the red light turned green. He wrapped his fingers around the silver hand and pushed the door open.

Inside, it appeared that he had destroyed the room with his sand. _Oops... Oh well... Not my problem..._

Two dead bodies lay on the floor, one man and one woman. In the corner sat a girl who looked like she was thirteen or fourteen, crying for the loss of what seemed to be her parents and the terror of knowing she was about to die. His smirk grew wider.

He walked over to her and stood, watching her tremble and shake. Her blood-shot amber eyes stared up at him with terror and confusion, unsure of weather he was going to help her or kill her. He stared down at her with apathy in his pale green eyes.

"You know your going to die, don't you?" He whispered, slipping a kunai knife out of his pocket.

She looked too terrified to scream. He crouched down in front of her and pointed the knife at her throat. "I haven't used a knife in a while," he whispered to her, "So hold still and you'll be with those idiots you seemed to be so attached to in a few minutes,"

She mumbled something under he breath. "Hm? I don't believe a caught that" he looked into her eyes harshly.

"...Monster" she whispered, her words soft and shaky with her tears.

"Repeat that first part again please," He said, calmly.

She didn't say anything. She was silent accept for her whimpers.

"C'mon, just say it," he whispered in a falsely kind way. There was more silence before she said anything.

"G-go to hell... Monster..." She sobbed. Her breathing was short gasps now.

"Keh..." He paused. "If I could leave..." He pulled the kunai knife backwards, ready. He glared at her again, as harshly and intensely as he could manage. "...I would never come back,"

The girl screamed as he shoved the kunai into her abdomen just below her ribs. Her mouth was wide open in a silent scream while she stared at the knife. She couldn't breath. She choked. She felt like she was going to pass out. She felt blood come up her throat and tasted the horrible liquid on her tongue. Crimson poured from her lips.

"Who are you," she choked out feebly.

He raised his hand slightly and the same grains that had killed so many people flowed to him on command. They began to shift over to the girl. They crawled up her arms. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't speak. She wanted to kill him, but she couldn't move. They crawled up her face and into her open mouth, mixing with the blood. She coughed and pain seared through her body. They flowed down her throat and suddenly, her breath was gone. She coughed. More pain. She couldn't breath.

"Gaara of the Sand," he whispered, sadistic venom dripping from his voice.

She was crying but didn't even realize it. The whole time, her lungs burning for air. Could she feel, she would have been grateful when her life was finally taken.

* * *

The blonde man swept his lips over the wound on the lifeless victim's wrist, letting them bleed into him. The crimson liquid was like a drug that he could not live without, that brought pleasure to his very existence. It brought him a high that, to him, was like sitting on cloud nine. He knew he would never get there even if he were a mortal. This, however, made up for it. This was his reason to live. The pleasure he felt from the moment the sweet blood was brought to his lips.

He had once been told by his 'apprentice', Gaara, that it was sick and disturbing, but he found nothing but a feeling stronger than lust. He felt no pity for the souls that were lost, for to him, they did not matter. They were nothing to him. They were worthless to him while they were alive, and only felt sorrow when they were empty of blood. This sorrow was closer to disappointment than anything else and was the furthest thing from pity on this earth.

He was not human, so he was not cannibalistic. It didn't matter to him. There would always be more people. Killing just a few did not matter. More are born everyday. There are too many in this over crowded world, and missing a few would not change a thing. And besides. He was practically a god. Should it not be his right to choose who stays and who leaves? No one could do anything about it anyway.

The last victim was almost completely bled out now. There were probably more dead bodies still in this village-type-thing. Or, at least, there should be if his little brat of an apprentice was doing his job right. It was hard to call him an 'apprentice' for he was not really learning to do anything besides kill properly. He also had come with him unwillingly. His village didn't want him because he had been forced upon the blood-thirsty immortal. The immortal didn't want him either, but it was either that or they killed him.

Often, Gaara would tell him that he wished he had chosen the second option. He would always answer with same "Tch. You and me both, Kit."

Though, he was good for one thing; destroying. Being shunned had stolen his emotions, and he didn't feel bad for anyone he killed. Unfortunately, he had to teach him to kill properly. Once he was done with that, he got creative. He barley even knew what he did anymore. But, it didn't matter so long as they died somehow.

He drank in the last of the blood and stood up, looking around. He was done here. He had little patience and didn't want to wait for that brat of his. He wiped the ruby liquid from his mouth with his hand. He saw the red-haired boy walk out of the hotel entrance. From where he stood, he could tell whatever method he had used had been messy. Cherry-red blood stained his face. _He walks too slow..._

"Oi! Ass-tard! You wanna move faster? I'd like to get out of here before the world ends!" He shouted at him.

"Shut the fuck up, Shukaku!" He yelled back, wiping blood off his face with his arm.

In response, Shukaku simply gave him the finger. Gaara made his way over to him and stood in front of him with his arms crossed.

"Kay, let's go," Shukaku looked away from him as he spoke.

"What, I don't get food this time?" Gaara asked him, quite irritated at his selfishness.

"That depends. How long will it take you?" He rose one eyebrow and looked down at him. _Damn, I will never get over how short this kit is._

Gaara stalked off toward the empty teashop, intending to raid it. "Hey!" Shukaku yelled after him, but he didn't answer. He glared at him and mumbled under his breath, "Stupid kit..."

He looked up at the sky for a moment, then back at his feet. The gourds at his hips turned to sand. More sand came to him, the grains swirled around him until the eye could no longer penetrate it. He could not be seen. It created a sphere around him that grew and grew until it was as large as the little rest stop. It seemed to just barely fit in the small street. However it continued to grow. The sand ate away at the buildings, destroying them. Gaara knew how to protect himself, so it didn't matter much for him. All of the bodies within them were turned to dust.

The enormous sphere of swirling wind and sand eventually came to a stop. The tiny grains cleared, revealing that Shukaku had transformed into his true self.

Where there was once a small resting place, there was now just sand to add to the rest of the desert. Gaara was still standing there, unharmed. He had been fast and grabbed as much food and bottled water as he could and shoved it into his bag before the building had been destroyed. Where the human-looking Shukaku had been standing, there was now a large beast that looked like a sand-colored tanuki with blue markings swirling through his fur. He stood on all four legs and was somewhat heavy set. Enormous leather straps were wrapped around his chest and underside holding two monstrous gourds, one on either side. His eyes, however, were still the same. Only now, they were surrounded with black.

Gaara looked up at the familiar beast and groaned under his breath.

He took a few steps backward, and then started running toward him. He sent a fraction of his chakra into his legs and feet and then leaped up onto one of the gourds. Then onto the beasts back, and finally onto his head. He sat down, cross-legged, and sighed. It wasn't even afternoon yet and he could already tell the death toll would be well into the thousands. _Just try to let me do at least some of it._

* * *

**A/N:**

**OMG! ROFL! When Gaara said his name, in my head it was like "Gaara of the sand, bitch" OMG! I am sooo bad at taking this stuff seriously. xD Oh well. Reviews make me happy. :P **


	2. A Change of Plans

**A/N: OMG! I can't believe I stopped updating this after only one chapter. D: I really like this concept and have actually mapped out the plot for the first time ever and yet I didn't actually write it!? WTF IS WRONG WITH ME! **

**BTW, I might have to change the rating to M because there was so much blood in the previous chapter and the language and such things...**

**Oh and incase you don't know**

**Kit is the name for a young raccoon/fox/tanuki which is why Shukaku calls Gaara that. Kyuubi will call Naruto that too. It's kind of like calling them Kid. **

* * *

The enormous beast stalked through the desert, clawing up the hot sand as he went, leaving his prints behind. However, these prints were only temporary. The sand abided to him and the tracks disappeared almost as quickly as they had come.

The desert seemed endless. Every step forward seemed to get you no where. They'd been going on like this for hours now. It was almost noon, the worst time to be out in the desert for humans. Unfortunately for Gaara, Shukaku didn't much care for his well being.

Gaara was beginning to wonder just where it was they were headed, or if the bijuu had any specific plans at all. Just then, Shukaku stopped moving. Though he was calm, there was also a vague sense of worry in his mind.

_"D'you smell that, Kit?" _his thoughts were thrown to the boy's head. Gaara locked his eyes on the same spot as Shukaku's and tried to see if he could sense anything out of the ordinary. There was the tiniest sense that something very powerful was near by. It seemed like it was maybe fifteen to twenty miles in front of them.

"What is it?" Gaara asked aloud.

_"I'm not sure yet. It stinks though," _the tanuki thought wryly.

Gaara knew that when Shukaku said something 'stinks', that he was actually a little nervous about it but just wouldn't admit it. Being a conversation had already been started, he figured he'd ask his question then.

"Just where are we headed?"

Shukaku answered him with a simple, "_You'll find out_," with a hint of mischief in his voice.

Gaara sighed. "What do we do when we get there?"

Shukaku growled. _"You'll Find out. Now, shut up, you talk too much,"_

"Thank you, I love it when my questions get answered," he mumbled to himself angrily, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

Shukaku growled with annoyance, but let it go and continued to trudge on through the desert.

Gaara lay down on his back on the beast's head, squinting at the sun as it glared into his eyes. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his eyes, which offered only a small amount of protection. This is where he would lay, awake but unmoving, in an attempt to regain the energy lost through so many sleepless nights.

* * *

Shockingly icy cold water spilled into his face, abruptly waking him from his dreams. Blue eyes wide, a blonde boy stared up into the face of the cause of the disturbance, still in shock. A red haired man stood above him, wielding a once full wooden bucket in his clawed hands. His eyes were a piercing crimson with slits for pupils, lined with red makeup, with an angry stare. His red hair was long and thick and stuck out in all directions but at the same time seemed very neat. This all seemed so unfitting to his elegant face.

The blonde boy sat on the ground, pants soaked and hair, in a nest made of the roots that coiled from the tree he sat under. He was back to reality by now and understood that he'd over slept. However this didn't, in his mind, make it okay to dump lake water on him.

"What the heck was that for?" He screamed, alarmed.

"You over slept," The man answered simply, turning away from him. "Again." He then proceeded to throw a small canvas draw-string bag at the boy.

"Now let's go, Fish-cake" He said, clearly intending to aggravate him.

The boy glared. "It's pronounced 'Naruto'," He said angrily. This obviously wasn't the first time he'd gotten it wrong.

"Mm-hmm..." He started walking away. Naruto didn't notice him leaving and started digging through the bag. He pulled out a plain white t-shirt and pulled it on over his chest. He then looked up to see the man was getting away from him.

"H-hey! Hey wait! Kyuubi! Wait!" He stood up quickly, too quickly, and lost his balance. Wet dirt splattered into his face and covered his shirt. Everything spilled out of the bag and was soaked through with the mud created when he was woken. He groaned with frustration and quickly started picking his now filthy belongings up.

"Wait a second!" He yelled, trying to collect everything. All his clothes, his food, the scrolls he'd collected, all filthy and scattered. "Kyuubi! C'mon! Please?" He pushed himself up and ran, this time successfully.

He walked briskly through the trees trying to catch up with him. Amazing, how a demon could disappear so easily. Just then, hot wind whipped against his face, swirly around everything, slicing gashes in trees and throwing the leaves in every directed. Birds flew from their trees in swarms. Any animal in the area scattered. The old forrest was suddenly in chaos.

A blur of vermillion swept passed him, only to come back and lift him high into the air.

_"We have to get going!"_ an angry voice slammed into his head as he was dropped on an enormous red fox with nine long tails.

* * *

It was hot, burning, far beyond the desert heat and it smelt awful. It was so strong, so pronounced. He knew that smell. Had he really gotten that close to it? Had he really...? He had only been suspicious before, or thought it had been his imagination. The brat had felt it, though. Now it was too obvious.

Shukaku stopped walking.

_"We have a change of plans,"_ He sent his thoughts to the human boy's mind.

"Hn?" How typical of him. The tanuki ignored his questioning grunt. He pushed himself forward with his powerful hind legs, clawing with his front ones, and burst into a break-neck run. Wind blew through his shaggy, tan fur.

The human had been abruptly surprised by this and had almost fallen off. He lay on his stomach now, holding on for dear life, pulling at the shorter fur on top of the beast's head.

The large creature sailed across the desert sand, a storm rippling up behind him from his speed.

"...What's going on?" Gaara asked, the air around him whipping at his clothes and skin, forcing his bloody red hair back away from his face.

_"I told you! Change of plans!" _he screamed back at him, frustrated.

"As though you had a plan in the first place..." the human whispered.

The tanuki growled loudly, loud enough for anything to hear, but the only one that could feel it was the human on his head.

It burned him and shot a sharp pain through his entire body. "D-don't get so mad. I'm sorry," he said hastily. He could only push the demon so far. The pain wouldn't stop. The tanuki kept running. Everything kept whirling and whipping around him. The pain and burning wouldn't stop for a while. It had been dull all day, but still there. He'd been too rude to him, to his master.

Master.

He hated that word to death. He never liked using it. He hated that he had to. He hated that he was expected to. He hated that that was what this_ thing _was.

He knew he wasn't supposed to insult this creature. He knew how bad it hurt if he did. He always forgot. Somehow.

The creature wouldn't cause him any pain for a while, would let him say what he wanted. Then he would do this. It made it more effective.

"I-I gave you blood today. Remember? Remember what I did for you?" the human's arrogant tone was gone. It wouldn't resurface for the demon again for at least a month.

The boy has always been foolish and changed his emotions even more abruptly than the demon himself. His place in the world was completely undefined to him. He was immature. Shukaku understood what this human's place was. It was to keep the demon's power and check. However, this meant that Shukaku would need something in return. Respect and blood, something so easy that seemed extremely hard for him. He hated being attached to him. He hated having to take care of him.

He was groveling now. The tanuki found this incredibly amusing. He sent more of his own chakra into the blood vessels in the boy's brain, causing him more pain.

He heard him scream. His amusement only increased.

Then he stopped running. For this, Gaara was glad. The pain in his head coupled with having to hold on while the ichibi ran was hard to handle.

The scent was strong now. It was becoming too definite. The trees and mountains were a misty blur in front of them, painted against the sky so far into the distance. The scent was coming from that direction. He could sense it.

He watched the distant forrest with intent eyes. Then he saw a blur of vermillion flicker up into the pastel looking trees. The scent from before was amplified to the point where it stung his nostrils. He was sure of his suspicions now.

_"That bastard had better not get to close," _he growled.

"Hn?" the human made a questioning, yet nervous grunt. The burning in his head wouldn't stop. It was practically blinding and he couldn't concentrate.

_"Stay on your side, Kitsune..." _The creature was glaring at the vermillion wisps that had swooped through the far off treetops.

Gaara was laying face down on top of Shukaku's head and was groaning loudly. He pulled at his own hair, along with the Shukaku's, and clawed at the fabric covering his chest. The sand in the his gourd pouring out all over the Ichibi's head from his lack of neural control caused by the searing ache drumming at his brain. The weight of the gourd on his back seemed almost crushing because of the position he was laying in. He hated Shukaku. He always had. Now, though, it seemed his hate for him was rapidly increasing.

This was the only companionship he would ever have in his life. It had been years since he'd spoken another human in a way that did not involve vile insults or death threats. Even so, those memories were so distant, so minute, that they seemed nonexistent. He couldn't recall a single time, however, where the other person had enjoyed his company.

This wasn't a new fact, though, and it was something that he had long since accepted. However, that did not at all relieve him of the sickening feeling of being so deeply unwanted.

For this he hated Shukaku. He hated his father for giving him and his mother up to the creature as a sacrifice.

Both of them had to be given up for the 'good' of the village. One of them had to be killed for him, and the other had to be bound to him. Gaara would have preferred to be killed, but his mother didn't want him to die.

Gaara didn't quite understand _why_ she wanted him to be attached to the creature, but he tried to make himself believe it had to do with love. He hoped that that was true.

Though, he'd lied to himself so many times, he didn't know whether to trust himself or not.

* * *

**A/N: I feel as though this chapter was a bit short... Sorry... Really sorry! =/ But... anyway...**

**No one say anything about Gaara's groveling being out of Character. He actually does that in the series and I'm pretty sure Shukaku scares him pretty bad being he's afraid to sleep because of him. (I know about the whole 'take over the mind' thing, but I'm pretty sure it's a bit more than that)**

**Anyway... I'll keep going if I get at least three reviews on this chap... I don't like writing things that people don't read.**


	3. Here

_A/N: HOLY OH MY GOD UPDATE! *pant pant* okay... I did it... I wrote another chapter for this story... If you were wondering why it took so long, it's because I went off track with that last chapter. However, being the AMAZING human that I am, I've salvaged what I can and have figured out where to go from here. So NEW CHAPTER TIME! _

_Also, I can't believe I did a review bribe in the last chapter. o.o I totally don't remember putting that. I am so sorry for that. Really, I feel like a total bitch. Oh well.. I'll never do that again. I promise. I'll update regardless of reviews from now on. I hate it when people do that. Reviews are nice, yes, but... it's just an awful thing to do and I'm sorry._

_I OWN NOTHING!_

* * *

They had spent several hours simply pacing back and fourth along an invisible border only the Shukaku could see. He wanted to seem threatening, trying desperately to keep the Kyubi off of his territory. His goals were to convince him that he was the terror of the dessert and that no one could do anything to hurt him. And so, from noon until midnight, the enormous, lumbering beats walked with paced steps, teetering on a nonexistent fence. It was not until the last trace of the Kyubi's chakra was gone that he finally allowed himself to turn slowly away and back to the dessert.

He'd sensed the Kyubi running away from the border and scoffed, saying he was terrified and boasting about his might. The boy atop his head begrudgingly agreed with him, sensing that any further contemplation of the situation would result in several hours of pain. In the back of his mind, however, he knew that the Kyubi wasn't afraid of them. The Shukaku did as well, though he'd never admit it.

The Ichibi was an egotistical beast whom would eternally stroke his own ego and never lived up to his expectations. He spent his time placing burdens on others and exploding into violent fits of rage to make up for his losses. Gaara often had blame placed on him by the demon, as well as by others. However, the beast's influence had still infiltrated his skull despite his best efforts. He too tended to live in a world a self pity. That pity turned to hate and that hate to anger and from there to violence. They'd never let themselves realize it, but they were incredibly alike.

As the demon stalked back into the desert, Gaara tried desperately to ignore the endless rant going on in his head. He hated having to listen to the beast's thoughts, and even more that the beast could listen to his. It meant he had absolutely no privacy and that it was impossible for him to contemplate things. This only happened when the moon was full, when the Shukaku had the most physical strength and the least sanity. That milky white aura of the moon which washed the dessert in the eeriest of glows would be drunk up as power and spat out as blood. It was the only thing that made the creature's aimless wandering meaningful, besides the demise of humans.

Gaara stared at that great white sphere that hung in the sky, wishing that it would turn black. The waning of the moon would bring much needed sleep for both of them. The moon's light was like adrenaline, a rush that would prevent you from calming, keep your heart from slowing, and only make you want to fight. Gaara laid on his with the Shukaku's course fur, like hay dried by the sun, underneath his face. His gourd was still strapped to his back. The sand in his gourd made him feel safe. Not because it was sand, but because it contained his chakra. It was the only thing in this world that was purely his that no one could ever take away. It was a part of him, like an appendage that could never be severed. It was all that still gave him comfort. It was the only thing that wanted him to live.

The Shukaku's claws would dig into the sand, strangely silent despite their size. At least, the impact was soft. As they lifted from the dunes, they'd bring with them a mass of sand that would then crash like the waves of a the sea. It was a monotonous sound, repeating over and over again like a lullaby. It put the red head into a trance, so much so that he was breathing in the same tempo of the Shukaku's steps. He listened to them until the sun began to conquer the night. It made it just all that more sudden when the beast abruptly stopped walking and violently shook his head back an forth, sending him flying through the air.

In a split second, sand came from the gourd like a fountain, swirling and twisting without wind, desperately trying to rescue him. Gaara didn't hesitate. He and the sand moved together as the grains came together beneath his feet to form a levitating platform. He landed on it as though it had always been there, and as though he'd jumped to it. He gave no sign of irritation as this was typical for this time of day. He watched as the Shukaku transformed into his human facade.

"Have you been listening to anything I've been saying all night?" was the yelling that greeted his ears as he made his way to the ground. The boy crossed his arms and made sure his eyes did not meet the man's eyes. His were the only eyes he could not stand up too. There was a low growl sound and the hour was filled with only white noise and blinding pain.

* * *

"So... What're we doing today?" Naruto asked the Kyubi, trying to sound nonchalant as he made a great effort to keep up with his pace. However, much to his frustration, he was met with no answer.

The man with his long, sweeping vermillion hair simply continued walking with the most arrogant of expressions plastered onto his face. Though, this wasn't an unusual occurrence. Naruto was still learning the fox's personality traits, but so far he was looking at them with acute disdain. It was clear to him that he hated the blonde and did his best to pretend he wasn't there, going on with what he'd done for the past 16 years.

_Why did they have to tell him? _was the thought that would swim so many laps in his mind's pool.

"Are you ever going to answer me?" the boy yelled at the man.

He didn't plan on saying anything. They had a seal that cut off their minds from each other for a reason. He didn't need to, or want to, communicate with him in any way. The Kyubi just wished that the blonde felt the same way.

"I bet you don't have any plans at all! I bet you don't even know where you are right now!"

The Kyubi let a low growl escape his lips at that comment, but forced himself not to respond further. _I am _not _stupid. _The Kyubi was arrogant, and rightfully so. He was the most powerful and clever of the tailed beasts. Why would he _not _know where he was going? After all, this had been his chunk of the forest for centuries. The child was and idiot. How in the world did he end up chained to _him?_

It was all the fault of those Konoha idiots. They went and built their village on _his _land. They attached him to this obnoxious child in an attempt to keep him from attacking them. And the worst part, the part that made him absolutely livid beyond all comprehension, they had claimed _him_, the glorious Nine Tailed fox, as their own _property_. They felt that they had the right to restrain him, control him, and use him for a purpose as barbaric and petty as war. He hated Konohagakure. He absolutely despised them.

Naruto glared at the man walking ahead of him. He hated how he didn't talk to him. They'd met about a year ago and he'd gotten almost no response out of him. The only thing he knew was that apparently, Naruto had been attached to the beast since the day he was born. He also knew that they couldn't be too far away from the demon or else he would die. This had confused him to no end being that he'd never seen him before in his life and felt that he probably would've noticed someone like him stalking him at all times

_"I didn't have to be that close to you all the time, idiot," he had said. "I just needed to be within 3 miles of you at all times,"_

_"But I would've seen you at least once!" Naruto had argued back._

_"Maybe I'm good at hiding," the beast had said in response._

_"But-"_

_"Please just be quiet," he'd said in the most threatening way possible._

_"No! I want to know how this whole thing works! Why would I die if I got too far away from you?" He had been desperately asking these questions, must to the annoyance of the fox, for the past few hours._

_"Because our chakra networks are connected. They can only stretch so far before they break," The Kybui had answered him in an arrogant tone. It was the most obvious thing in the world to him. "Now please just shut up."_

_"Wait, if our chakra networks are connected, then why don't I have your chakra?" he continued on, despite the Kybui's commands._

_ The Kyubi growled. He hated this boy's voice."You do. There's just a seal preventing you from utilizing it." _

_"And what about-" _

_The man had whipped his head around to face him, his sharpest glare consuming his eyes."If you have any more questions, please ask someone else. My job is not to play tour guide! Now, for fuck's sake! Shut up!"_

_Naruto had finally taken the hint and was quiet for the time being. These were the moments when the Kyubi was happiest._

* * *

Shukaku gazed around the restaurant, staring at the bar, at all the people sitting at the bar, listening to their hearts beating. He could practically feel the rhythm of the lovely muscle in their chests and see the blood beneath their skin. It was making him hungry. It made him want to simply slaughter the entire place. However, he'd have to restrain himself and pick just one. Now was not the time to draw a massive amount of attention to themselves. After all, this was a much larger town. It wasn't quite as huge as Sunagakure, of corse, but it was much bigger than the little rest stop from yesterday. There was too much to offer them here. Destroying all of it, all at once, would be incredibly boring. Doing it a bit at a time, dragging it out, would be much more interesting.

The blonde man turned his focus to the red-haired boy sitting across from him. He was examining the black X's drawn on the backs of his bony hands in permanent marker. He watched him pull his skin to the side slightly, examining both the translucency of his skin and the way the X moved with his flesh.

_"Good god, why are you so weird?"_

Gaara didn't quite hear his thought, as it was not directed at him, but he still got the feeling of it. He stopped immediately, removing his hands from the table and letting them drop to the smooth pleather of the burgundy bench he sat on. Shukaku had only just let the pain subside a few minutes ago, after the waitress had come to take their order. She'd expressed some concern for him, but Shukaku had just said "He has chronic migraines" and told her to come back in a few minutes.

"Oh yeah, and uh... here" he said to him, though there was a clear resentment swimming in his mouth. He pulled a small bag from his pocket and removed a few bills and coins. "I always forget humans need to eat."

He looked up at the 'man' that sat before him, the soft golden light from the lantern above them failing to add warmth to his features. Those unnatural eyes could not be softened. He glared at him, but took the money gratefully. He watched as Shukaku slid out of the booth and walk toward the bar. Gaara had no question as to what he was up to. He just hoped he was going to be discrete enough about it that he'd actually have time to eat.

He looked at the menu and then at the money he'd been left. $5.25. He sighed. There wasn't anything on the menu for that little. Though, he wasn't quite sure why, as from what he could smell, the food wasn't that wonderful. He dug into his own pocket and pulled out what he had, which thankfully was a twenty. Though, he really hoped he didn't end up spending that much. After all, it was all he had.

When the waitress finally came back, she seemed concerned for him. However, at the same time she clearly was eyeing him warily. After being with a bijuu for so long, people tended to have an unapproachable air about them. His eyes seemed unnatural to her, the way they seemed to look passed you rather than at you.

"What can I get you?" She asked, forcibly cheery. Gaara could see how afraid she was. Though, it was more likely she was afraid of the man he'd previously been sitting with. She was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with his seemingly unblinking stare. As much as it made her nervous, she suddenly wondered if he might be blind. This gave her further unease, feeling bad for being rude to a blind person. _Of course, if he's blind, he can't read the menu... _she thought.

Gaara continued staring at her for a moment, watching all the minute changes in her forcibly joyful face. She was only a bit older than him, clearly nervous about him, most likely new to the 'real world'. She was probably not at all experienced dealing with anything out of the ordinary. She didn't understand. She had always been hidden from danger. Sheltered.

Gaara didn't care for her, or further judge her personality. Making assumptions beyond this point usually resulted in incorrect and unnecessary prejudice, something he did not care for.

He simply told her, "Fried gizzard and a water," which she promptly scribbled down just before she scurried back to the kitchen.

* * *

Gaara wondered the village, no purpose to his steps. It was late at night and so most pedestrians had retreated to their houses to escape the frigid night air. Harsh wind swept through the streets, picking up sand and letting it momentarily dance on air in great gusts. It was brought to life for only a moment before it would again be dropped to the cobbles of the roads. It was like it was mimicking the demon that stalked the dunes. The wind was a playful ghost of a child, toying with his bloody hair, playing in the sand.

He could enjoy this for now. He didn't have to be back to the house yet. Shukaku would probably prefer it if he wasn't there. In the mean time, he could breathe air that didn't stink of blood. It was strange, though, how he only liked the scent of blood he'd drawn himself. Any other blood would sicken him to the core. For this reason, Gaara couldn't stand it when Shukaku brought dates home.

He trailed his fingers along the thick stone wall that wrapped around what could be considered a park, eyes closed, having long since memorized every sediment that made up every rock cemented into the wall. He'd lived here since he was six. He had few memories of his actual family, though he apparently had a brother and a sister. He remembered his father's personality, but had forgotten his face. However, he knew he hated both. He didn't remember him being kind to him. In fact, he'd been fairly neglectful. The few times he saw him had been when he was being given some kind of bribe to "Please be good". He'd give him a toy, some sweets, sometimes a pet. None of these lasted. They toys ended up destroyed, a slew of cotton and ruptured stitches. The sweets, of corse, were gone once he'd eaten them and therefore only lasted at most an hour. The pets... never made it long either. Gaara knew that he was never his father's son. He knew the Shukaku had stolen him from him.

A shudder wracked his body as the wind began to grow colder. He pulled his cloak closer around him, knotting his fist in the soft, but unfortunately thin fabric. It didn't help. He also realized he was getting close to the front gate of the park. He sped up his walk until stone turned to air and then to the first of exactly 26 iron rods. He opened his eyes opened slowly, allowing them to get used to the wind. He wrapped his fingers around the first iron rod, letting the cold metal be warmed by his flesh. He only peered in through the bars for a long while. It was as though he was looking at another world that had died so many years ago. After all, it had been 2 years since he'd been to this village and even longer since he'd visited this place. He wasn't sure if it felt like home, but it felt fairly close.

Without taking his eyes off the innards of the park, he guided his sand into the black metal lock that currently kept the playground closed. He made it fill the keyhole perfectly and slowly turned the sand in the lock. After a few seconds of concentration, the cold metal object fell to the ground with a heavy clank. He pushed the gate open, its hinges groaning with tiredness, but he didn't step inside. He couldn't seem to properly convey to his feet that they should walk. He couldn't move. He couldn't even force his chakra to lift a single grain of sand from within the park. He just watched as the wind played without him.

It wasn't for what seemed like hours that Gaara gave up trying to convince his body to enter the playground. Once he'd torn himself away, he'd made his way to the outskirts of the village and into an area that had been swallowed by the desert. Thick mountains of sand coated the landscape, each one filthy with rubble and destroyed buildings. It was a section of the village that had fallen victim to the desert and had been left to rot. The wind was much harsher out here without the protection of the village's walls. This, coupled with the much deeper sand, made it significantly harder to walk. His clothes billowed around his thin frame and his hair was being viciously whipped around his head as he dug his feet unto the deep sand. The air was like ice, every breath becoming a cloud of vapor.

He tried desperately to keep the cloak around his body, however little it did for him. Though he'd wrapped a scarf around his lower face and neck, it didn't keep the rest of him at all warm. His fingertips and toes were numb. Of course, it wasn't as though this hadn't happened to him before. It was simply something that had to be experience while living in the desert. There was no way around it. The only thing to do was to deal with it and keep yourself prepared. Thankfully, Shukaku was excellent at doing so.

Gaara could see that the house was getting close. It was the only thing in the sea of ruins that remained static. It was once a very large building, a mansion, that was now almost completely buried by sand. The only section still visible was the veranda of what was at one point a second story bedroom. It stuck out of a particularly enormous dune near the back of the rubble field. However, what made this place so unique was that, to the untrained eye, it would seem to be in an invisible bubble. The rapidly swirling sand and air completely avoided the veranda, nothing daring to trespass on the territory. Once Gaara was within a few yards of the worn stone railing that would've at one point stopped someone from falling off the terrace, all sound and motion died. The wind let go of his clothes and the sand stopped moving. Walking became much easier without the air constantly trying to push him back. It was as though he'd walked through and invisible doorway.

He ran his hand through his tousled hair, trying to set it straight again, as he easily jumped over the railing and onto the old stone platform. It felt strange, for the moment, to go from walking in soft sand to stepping on dense rock. He turned the thin, metal handle to the double glass doors and stepped into what had probably been the master bedroom. It was currently empty of furniture, silence dripping from the walls. He quickly passed through without consent and walked out of the room and into a long hallway. Like most buildings in the Wind Country, all of the walls were made of sandstone bricks plastered with clay. It was pleasantly warm inside the house in comparison to the desert outside, but still was quite cool. He pulled the scarf from his mouth as he made his way to a thin stone staircase sandwidged between two walls. It curved slightly as it went down to the ground floor, light getting scarcer and scarcer as he descended. He didn't even acknowledge the blood spattered along the walls.

Gaara's footsteps echoed off the stone as he went down the main hall on the lower floor. He came to the room in the center of the walkway guarded by two enormous sliding doors. He slipped his fingers into the brass plated notch that made the handle and with great force, wrenched the great door to the side and slid it into its slot in the wall. He stepped inside his room and slammed the door with just as much strength.

He pulled off his cloak and gourd, setting them both carefully by the door. He sat his shoes and extra bags at their side. The floor felt cold under his naked feet. Gaara's room had at one point been used as den, with a large fireplace at the back. It was only lightly furnished. There was a red couch up near the fireplace and a threadbare hearth at its base. The ceilings were high and the walls were lined with shelves of old books. It looked like nothing more than a shell of the den it had once been, but it was still his bedroom.

All was how he'd left it. The peeling wall paper was still spattered with the same red stains and the couch was still buried in blankets. However, there was a fine layer of newly settled dust, he realized with distaste as he ran his hand across the mantle. Along the way, he swiped a pack of matches from the mantle's surface. He carefully avoided the broken figurine of a carrousel horse just before it. It was missing its back leg.

He struck the match against the box, light erupting into the dark room from the newly born fire. He watched it burn for a moment before he threw it into the fireplace. Fire carefully ate the wood and coals, tasting and licking steadily as it slowly devoured it whole. Warm orange light glowed from the fire and Gaara sighed. Never taking his eyes off the fire, he climbed onto the couch and buried himself in the mess of blankets. He welcomed the softness of the red velvet of the couch and the crocheted nest greatly. He curled into the crook of the couch's arm and watched the flames so delicately burnt the wood.

* * *

_A/N: I tried to make this chapter a little bit longer than normal, though I don't know how much longer it actually is. I may have put some things in this chapter that contradict the first two. I promise I'll go back to the other two and change them to make sense if that did happen. I've just changed some things from what I was originally going to do from when I first started writing. Honestly, I like those ideas MUCH better. So... I hope this makes up for my absence. Or at least sort of does._


End file.
